Friends
It’s almost 11pm as I begin this post. It’s Sunday, and I have a pretty early start tomorrow. Not writing today doesn’t feel like an option because I don’t want it to be. It’s fine to miss a day here and there when you’re building a habit into your life, but at this precise moment, I don’t want to miss a day. I don’t want to break the chain. Instead, here I am.
I’m writing late because I’ve spent pretty much the entire day in connection with people I love. After a wobbly start, I walked with Molly down on Hove seafront. The skies were blue, the promenade was packed, the air was crisp and wintry fresh. Breathe in, breathe out. This is alive.
The rest of the day was spent with, as I said, people I love, culminating in a games night at mine. And this is what I want to capture this evening: the warm, spacious, happy feeling of being part of something bigger than myself, of having a group of FRIENDS.
It’s amazing how something so simple can feel so sweet. Growing up, friendships always felt hard. Fraught with favouritism, unnamed popularity contests and inside jokes that I was rarely a part of (I won’t say never, because it’s an unnecessary exaggeration), I found being in groups excruciating. I never really felt that anyone genuinely wanted to be my friend, and learned to be ultra vigilant about any signs that I wasn’t somehow ‘included’ – and when you’re on the lookout for those things, you find evidence everywhere. Any connection or bond exhibited between two other people was proof that I was on the outside looking in.
This feeling stayed with me well into my twenties and thirties. I’ve had freak outs on holidays and have sulked, inwardly combusted and gone totally frozen in groups. It’s painful and embarrassing… and recently, it is happening less. I think in part it has something to do with meeting an amazing group of women and somehow being able to trust that nobody is trying to leave anybody out; sometimes certain people make plans, sometimes others do; sometimes we all hang out; sometimes someone can’t make it.
Alongside that, moving into my own space has enabled me to embrace having people over. On some level I can’t believe that I’m 36 and I’m just getting used to having people over at mine, but I am, and I am, and it’s LOVELY. Tonight we played Cards Against Humanity and I provided a seemingly endless supply of pizza (sorry guys!), and we listened to amazing music (thank you Nick) and talked and laughed. It was easy and stimulating and fun. For someone who has suffered with quite debilitating social anxiety in different guises over the years, I am extremely grateful for evenings like this one. In a world facing a lot of extremely challenging problems, a few adults getting together to eat a bit of food and hang out is hardly breaking news. But in my life, tonight mattered. Evenings like this are ones that I will not forget. I’m changing the script around what it means to be part of a little community, around what it means to be in a relationship and around what it means to connect and be sociable.
There’s a lot of ‘inspo memes’ out there about “finding your tribe” and “loving them hard.” Something about the language infuriates me, but the IDEA is powerful. We all need a tribe. We need people who get us. We need to find the places and people around whom we can relax into who we are.
And as the Beatles sang, and one of the Cards Against Humanity cards prompted us this evening… I get by with a little help from my… well, the cards we played were all pretty funny and offensive, but in my case the Beatles had it right – I really do get by with a little help from my friends.